


Burning Down the House

by ArtemisRae



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Gen, The Gangs All Here, everyone is doing the best they can, hopper and el make a home, hopper just wanted to drink beer in his cabin and hes feeling personally attacked right now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-21 06:32:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16571447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisRae/pseuds/ArtemisRae
Summary: Watch out, you might get what you're afterBoom babies, strange but not a strangerI'm an ordinary guyBurning down the house- Talking Heads, Burning Down the HouseWith a little help from her friends, it takes about a year for El and Jim Hopper to turn the cabin into a home.





	Burning Down the House

**Author's Note:**

> Since I can't post my next part of For the Unknown until Juxtaposie finishes her part, have a fic about everyone loving El and only wanting the best for her.

Hopper lasted exactly five days before he caved. 

It wasn’t his fault that the kid played dirty and sicced Joyce on him. 

“If I know someone is planning a crime,” Joyce asked causally, “am I obligated to report it?”

They were standing in the middle of Pete’s hardware store, buying supplies to repair both of their wrecked homes. There was one basket between the two of them - Hopper wouldn’t have been able to live with himself otherwise. Joyce was in a position where she needed the house fixed _now_ , regardless of what she could actually afford, although she hadn’t yet realized that he had no intention of splitting their order at the cashier judging by the fact that she was still holding herself stiff, purse strap clenched in her hand like what little money she had was going to run away.

While he didn’t want to rush Joyce, he was anxious to get through the store and get home. El had been asleep when he’d left - which wasn’t remarkable by itself, considering that she’d done almost nothing _but_ sleep since closing the gate five days earlier - but she’d been running a fever overnight, and he was eager to return to the cabin.

“Yes,” he replied absently and as her question registered, his posture stiffened. “Are those assholes from the Sun still bothering you? Jonathan’s not threatening them, is he?”

“No!” She waved away his concern, like the newspapers hadn’t been hounding her and Will for their perceived involvement with the newly shuttered Hawkins Lab. She bit her lip. Hopper’s eyes narrowed, his mind instinctively slipping into _Suspicious Cop Mode_.

“What? Just tell me,” he prompted, and Joyce sighed. 

“Mike might have mentioned yesterday that he’s planning an act of civil disobedience,” she said this to a roll of duct tape that she was passing from hand to hand, unwilling to make eye contact with him. 

Hopper rolled his eyes. The Wheeler kid had been a total nuisance the last week. It wasn’t like Hopper had any intention of keeping them apart anymore - his goal had always been to help El live like a normal kid, and that included her friends along with whatever prepubescent crush she’d developed - but that didn’t mean that the time was right.

“It’s still not safe,” Hopper argued, pitching his voice low. His eyes darted around, but Hopper didn’t see anyone but Pete, looking bored at the register. “Owens is still in the hospital. Can’t do anything until I talk to him.”

“You could at least talk to Mike,” Joyce shot back, the same scolding _take the gas money_ tone from when they were sixteen and cruising in his Impala. “He told me he’s come to the station every day this week and Flo keeps telling him you’re not there.”

“Maybe I’m not,” Hopper suggested unapologetically.

“He can see your truck in the parking lot Hop,” Joyce said. “And he said that if Flo tells him you’re not there again he’s going to start throwing rocks at your truck because then you’ll _have_ to talk to him.”

“Jesus Joyce, that’s not civil disobedience. That’s plain old vandalism.” Hopper hated to admit but he absolutely believed that Mike Wheeler would do such a thing just to get Hopper’s attention. They started to make their way to the front of the store. “It’s not time yet. She can barely walk to the bathroom.”

“All the more reason,” Joyce insisted gently. “She might feel better if she saw her friends.”

The subject was dropped as they reached the front and Joyce protested as Hopper handed the entire basket over to Pete and declared it was a single order. She followed him out to the truck and stood patiently next to the driver’s side window until Hopper rolled it down, breath puffing slightly in the cold November air.

She looked at him expectantly. Hopper sighed. “It’s not safe yet Joyce. And you know if I let him see her once I won’t be able to keep their little _party_ away from the cabin.” If his exasperation wasn’t clear from his tone of voice, the fact that he hadn’t been able to resist adding air quotes to the word “party” made it perfectly clear.

Joyce’s face twitched as she fished a pair of gloves out of her coat pocket. Hopper didn’t like the smirk on her face. “What?” he prodded.

“ _Nothing_ ,” she insisted playfully, smile spreading and there she was again, sixteen year old Joy, laughing because _she had no idea what happened to the last cigarette Hop, honest!_ “It’s just… when your defense makes you sound like a Scooby-Doo villain you might not be on the right side of the argument.”

Hopper scowled and rolled the window up without saying goodbye. Joyce didn’t seem particularly offended, but did call _just think about it!_ through the window before turning towards her Pinto, waving to Hopper as he made sure her car started, watching as she pulled out into traffic.

***

So he caved. 

The next day he went and had a stern talk with Mike Wheeler (who didn’t even have the good grace to look even slightly ashamed of the rock in his hand), and then the day after that he picked Mike up from the agreed meeting point (the split near Mirkwood, as if he really were going to the Byers’ for dinner like he’d told his mother) and drove him to the cabin in the woods.

He was nervous.

The kid wasn’t. Mike sat still and tensed in the passenger seat, jaw set and fists clenched as if he were holding back from launching himself at Hopper like he had the night of the Gate. 

Hopper couldn’t say why, exactly, he was nervous: whether it was the knowledge that letting Mike visit the cabin meant he could no longer hold El back from the Party, or whether he was anticipating Mike’s distress at El’s slow recovery from closing the Gate. Either way as he parked the truck and guided the kid around the tripwire, Hopper felt a crawling nausea, like he was about to flunk a test he hadn’t studied for.

Mike rocked from foot to foot as Hopper fished the keys out of his pocket. El was under strict orders not to use her powers, after she’d unlocked the door for him two days after closing the Gate and the resulting nosebleed had taken almost an hour to staunch, ruining a set of pajamas.

“She’s probably sleeping,” Hopper warned, swinging the door open. Mike rushed past him, but before Hopper could finish threatening him if he dared to wake her up, he fell silent at the crestfallen look on Mike’s face.

El was a small and pathetic figure curled up in the hand-stitched quilt that had been handed down from Hopper's grandmother, stuffed bear tucked firmly under her chin.

"She doesn't look better," Mike said dumbly, and Hopper couldn't help snorting. He knew exactly what Mike saw - the sleep-mussed curls, the bruises still under her eyes, the pale lips - but he also knew how very far El had come in the week since the Gate.

"She's tough,” he answered, without going into details about his sleepless nights, the worrying about what he'd do if El didn't wake up this time, how he’d struggled not to see similarities between her and Sara despite the dried, cracked lips, sunken eyes, and shallow breathing. Hopper had spent the last week feeling isolated and nervous, knowing there was nowhere to turn if she needed proper medical attention. Trying to play nurse while simultaneously acting like nothing was wrong at work was straining his nerves.

Mike's face twisted and he tentatively reached out a hand, resting it on El's shoulder. El didn't stir. 

"She's getting better," Hopper insisted despite himself. "She's still sleeping a lot, but the nosebleeds have stopped and she has an appetite when she's awake. She's just getting her strength back. Ever have a bad bout of flu? It's like that."

It was a little worse than that, but the kid already looked like he was about to cry, and he didn't need to hear about Hopper carrying El to the bathroom, her voracious appetite, or the choking nightmares where she said something was reaching into her mouth and down her throat.

He turned away then, to give the kid a minute of privacy, but to his surprise Mike followed him into the kitchen, slinging his backpack onto the floor with a thud.

Hopper pretended not to notice, opening the icebox and ducking to look inside despite the fact that he was well aware there was nothing in there except for a couple cans of beer, a pitcher of Kool-Aid, and some apples. El was eating enough for three whenever she was awake. He needed to go shopping again.

"I have questions," Mike said. The threatening tone of his voice was undeniable. His arms were crossed, face serious, and Hopper had to turn his back so Mike wouldn’t see the grimace on his face. He popped open a can of beer.

"That and ten cents," Hopper intoned blandly, taking a sip from the can.

It wasn't like Hopper _wanted_ to be mean to the kid, but he couldn't deny that between the Byers and El's health and the lab closing and all the reporters sniffing around Hawkins, his nerves were shot. At the moment his patience was limited and being used on basic necessities. He therefore had none to spare for the thirteen year old who was squaring up like he was trying to intimidate the Chief of Police.

Which he wasn't. Not at all, even if Hopper still had a pit in his stomach.

"How long?" Mike asked, and Hopper sighed. It was shaping up to be the sort of conversation where none of the answers were going to reassure Mike or make him any happier.

"She followed me out of the woods the week between Christmas and New Years." Hopper admitted, and silently counted.

_Three, two, one..._

Mike flushed, jaw dropping. "But Will came back the second week of November!"

"I know," Hopper said simply. He and El had never really talked about what she had done in the woods all those weeks. The fact that she'd still been wearing the dress and flannel from the night they'd built the pool in the middle school gym had told him more than enough.

He would never forget the sight of her bright red toes as he had helped her bathe and change, forever amazed that she'd managed to survive without any serious frostbite.

Mike crossed his arms, unhappy. “Well, what is this place? Is this where you’ve been hiding her the whole time?”

“Yup.” Hopper sipped his beer. “Grandfather’s cabin. No one’s been out here in a long time. Let’s me keep an eye on both her and work.”

“Where are the windows?” Mike asked incredulously, nose wrinkling as he looked at the tarp-covered frame behind the sink. Hopper suddenly realized the source of his nerves: one thing to have Michael Wheeler (and by extension, the rest of their party) out here worrying over El, and another thing entirely to have them in his personal space, judging everything Hopper had provided for El and whether or not it was good enough for her.

“She broke them,” Hopper answered, tone short, hoping that would prevent anymore questions.

Mike’s jaw set. “What did you do to make her do that?”

One thing for Hopper’s heart to nag that nothing he did was good enough for the kid, another thing for his brain to reassure that he was doing the best he could under the circumstances, but to have someone else point out all of his failings (perceived or otherwise) when it came to El was not something Hopper was prepared to handle. Not when he was barely holding it together as ringleader of the circus that was currently Hawkins, Indiana.

Hopper's jaw clenched, but before he could grit out a response (somewhere between _that's none of your business_ and _that's a long story_ ), a small, sleepy voice called out, "Hopper?" Before Hopper could blink Mike was back in the doorway, backpack in hand. "El!"

He watched from the doorway as El struggled into sitting position. Mike sat down next to the head of the bed, unzipping his backpack and talking in one great rush: "How are you feeling? Any better? I couldn't wait to see you. The whole party wanted to see you, but we still have to be careful. They all sent stuff, see?"

Digging through his backpack, he started laying items on a bed: a folded piece of red construction paper, decorated in bright colors, a crumbled bouquet of wildflowers wrapped in cellophane, and a can of Pringles. "Will made you a card, and we all signed it, and Lucas bought the flowers, ‘cause he said that's what you send someone who doesn't feel good, and he wanted to get you balloons too, but I think Hopper would kill me if I tried to carry those through the woods, but we can get you balloons later, and Dustin sent the chips and some candy too, he says you need some _feel good_ food, whatever that is. I wanted to ask my mom to make you some chicken soup, because she makes the best, but I couldn't figure out how to carry it at school all day, but I promise I'll bring some the next time Hopper let's me come out here -"

El's eyes, large and doe-soft, travelled from Mike to Hopper, clearly in disbelief that after asking and asking for Mike he was sitting right there next to her. Hopper gave her a smile and a shrug. She looked back at Mike, who was still pulling stuff out of his backpack, and her face brightened like she was seeing the sun for the first time.

"E-El?" Mike stuttered, suddenly cutting himself off, eyebrows drawn in concern.

She burst into tears.

To Hopper's surprise, Mike didn't panic or falter. He simply reached out and wrapped his hand around El's fingers, still clutching at her tattered bear. "Hey, it's okay now," he reassured her, and Hopper was impressed with how fearless Mike was in the face of a crying girl. "It's totally okay. You're going to get better, and then we'll see you all the time, okay?"

Hopper raised his hand to protest - Owens was still in the hospital, Hopper had no idea whether or not they could see El all the time, and Wheeler really needed to stop writing checks that Hopper couldn't cash - but then he sighed and rubbed at his mouth. This wasn't the time or the place to put the burden of reality on the kids.

Mike stayed through dinner, long enough eat with El and break into the box of Twinkies Dustin had sent. He talked the entire time, with El mostly propped up against the headboard, eyes wide and adoring while he blathered on about Will and school and game nights and the arcade.

It was the first time in a year Hopper had seen her look anything but bored or chagrined or miserable, and it drove home the suspicion in his mind that while Hopper had taken El in, and given her clothes and the cabin and as much of his devoted attention that he'd been able, she'd never truly been happy even though she'd understood the boundaries he'd set. Hopper felt bad when it passed eight o'clock and he had to call Mike away.

He put on a brave face for El, who immediately looked devastated. "Don't worry," Mike said as he leaned over and hugged her goodbye, eyes lingering on the ragged bear in her arms. "I'll call you on the radio tonight. And I'll be back soon. I promise."

***

It was a full two weeks before Mike reappeared at the cabin. He'd assured Hopper that he remembered the way out and said he didn't need a ride. Hopper was expecting a member or two of the party to accompany him on their bikes, even if Hopper didn't like the idea of them riding around Hawkins after sundown.

What he wasn't expecting was Nancy Wheeler to be standing on the porch behind Mike, bundled up in a puffy pink coat and green scarf. Next to her on the porch was a spindly vanity, cherry wood reflecting the soft glow of the cabin.

"What's this?" Hopper asked incredulously, shooing them into the cabin quickly. He glared at the vanity, then at Nancy, whom he thought should have known better. "What the hell is this? What happened to being discreet? This is why you didn't want me to pick you up, isn't it?" There was no way Hopper would have let Mike put a piece of furniture in the Blazer.

"It's for _El_ ," Mike said stubbornly, jaw set. He took a breath to continue, but Nancy intervened.

" _Mike_ ," she said sternly, and for a full ten seconds they glared at one another, having the kind of furious, silent argument that Hopper could remember having with his own younger sisters. Nancy was declared winner, as Mike's shoulders slumped and he turned toward the bedroom, where El was standing in the doorway.

Nancy turned to Hopper. "It is for El. It's... it's some stuff that was going to get donated otherwise. Mike thought it might brighten up the bedroom a little bit, make it feel more like it's _hers_."

Hopper sighed as El came fully out of the bedroom, running her fingertips over the recently polished wood. She glanced over at Mike, then up at Nancy. "What is it?"

"It's a vanity," Nancy explained. "Lots of girls have them, it's a place for you to keep your jewelry and makeup and sit and get ready for school and parties and _dates-_ "

"Let me get this, El," Mike interrupted, picking the table up and shouldering past Nancy. El followed Mike, and Hopper was amused at the smirk on Nancy's face.

She looked around, taking in the cabin before turning back to Hopper. “You know, it’s not as bad as Mike made it out to be.”

Hopper’s eyebrows raised. “Excuse me?” 

Nancy’s cheeks turned red as she realized the implications of what she’d just said. “Don’t be mad at him. He spent the last year not sure if she’s even alive. I think deep down he’s jealous she’s here and not living in our basement. He said she didn’t have a lot of stuff in her bedroom, and I wanted to help. I have a couple other things for her too."

"That's nice and all, but where did you get it?" Hopper asked, mind racing. Bad enough to be caught carrying it through the woods, but whoever Nancy had gotten it off of must have asked -

Nancy’s face dropped, and Hopper suddenly remembered that despite the fact that just a few weeks ago he'd handed her a rifle without a second thought, she was still a teenage girl.

"Barb's parents,” she admitted, eyes on the ground. Hopper remembered that night in the middle school, El's quiet declaration ( _gone... gone... gone_ ) and then, with a stab of guilt, he remembered the relief he felt knowing he only had to rescue Will after all. He'd never given Barb another thought after that night. "They said I could have anything of hers. To remember her by."

He thought about Sara, and how long it had taken before Diane had emptied her bedroom - he'd been too strung out, nearly insane with grief, and the resulting argument over what to give up and what to keep and if it was all too soon had been one of those monumental fights that had permanently fractured their relationship and any chance of working through their grief together.

The Hollands were finally clearing out Barb's bedroom. Hopper almost admired their tenacity, and how long they'd clung to hope, but -

"They're not going to question where it went?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Nancy shook her head. "They have other things to worry about now."

Along with the vanity, Nancy had also come with a set of lacy white curtains to hang over El's window. They matched the lace runners that now covered the surface of the vanity and her dresser, and joined the corkboard that hung over the vanity's mirror. Tucked into the corner was a picture of the party from Mike’s last birthday, his face glowing in the lit candles as the rest of the party smiled cheerfully behind him.

In Hopper's opinion, it was a little like putting a tutu on a bull moose, but El's face radiated with happiness. She sat on the bed with Nancy, sorting through a pile of Nancy Drew books while Mike and Hopper did all the heavy lifting. Wrapped tightly in her arms was an obnoxiously large purple stuffed rabbit. Hopper had pretended not to notice the distasteful way Mike had looked at El's ragged teddy when he'd presented it to her, proclaiming that the rabbit would help her feel better - no matter that El was back on her feet and eating normally again, even if she still got tired easily.

Even after they left - shooed out of the cabin just before nine - El lingered before she finally consented to crawl into bed, standing in front of the vanity and running her fingers over the delicate hem of the lace runner.

Hopper had to concede that the curtains had added a girly touch that the room had been lacking - and also one that he hadn't even realized El might have wanted.

***

With Mike and Nancy came Will and Jonathan. 

Will because even though he was recovered physically, he was still missing some school with insomnia, nightmares, and panic attacks, and the poor kid still needed some social interaction. Jonathan because he could hardly bear to let his brother out of his sight. When he wasn’t working or hanging out with Will, he was with Nancy, looking at her with the same soft expression that he looked at Will.

Hopper didn’t like more people traipsing through the woods towards the cabin - especially after Owens’ recent warning, and his heightened paranoia after letting El attend the Snow Ball anyway - but he couldn’t deny that the Byers boys’ presence did add a certain warmth to the cabin that had been sorely missing.

The first time he came home to the Byers was on a day when he’d allowed MIke to visit after school, but hadn’t realized he’d be bringing company. It was fully winter at this point, and there was a fresh coat of snow on Jonathan’s car when he pulled up next to it.

He was relieved to see that Mike had found a ride instead of trying to ride his bike in the snow, but he wasn’t prepared to open the door and find Mike Wheeler and Will Byers pawing through a box filled with cables and plugs and other electronic detritus.

El was sitting on the couch with Jonathan, purple rabbit in hand. She grinned at Hopper, excitement evident on her face.

“What is this?” Hopper asked.

“Fixing your TV,” Mike answered, head buried in the box as he searched for something.

Will, at least, smiled at Hopper. “El told us that your television is broken. We looked at it and all we need to do is re-thread the cable. That’s a pretty easy fix.”

Hopper glanced over at Jonathan, who shrugged. “AV Club.”

Mike was courteous that day, which meant El hadn’t told him that he was the one who had broken the television in the first place. Will’s presence helped as well - Hopper had seen how very gentle Mike was with El, and it was something of a surprise to find that he was the same with Will, and how the two of them in tandem smoothed out the rough edges to Mike’s personality.

Hopper was grateful. Joyce was one of his nearest and dearest friends, but even in high school she’d had that fluttery, nervous energy pulsing within her. Despite that - or more likely, because of that - both of her boys possessed a calm, tender aura. It was a balm to Mike’s high-key anxiety and Nancy’s aloof kindness.

When Jonathan was visiting, Hopper even felt comfortable enough to leave, running to the grocery store and leaving the three of them in the cabin’s tiny living space. It was nice to come home to Jonathan watching fondly while El scribbled and Will sketched and they both made a mess with the crayons that Will always brought along.

He thought Jonathan was a good influence - Hopper was not a gentle man and never had been. That had been left behind after middle school in pursuit of girls and cars in high school, and what little bit had remained had been discarded in the name of survival in Vietnam and after Sara - but Jonathan hadn’t taken that path. What could have made Jonathan rough and angry had instead made him gentle and patient. 

Even though Hopper had seen Jonathan pushed to his limits, he thought it was good for El to have someone who spoke to her like she was a peer, didn’t explain things unless she asked, and treated her exactly like he treated Will - without any judgement of their triggers (cold for Will, darkness and loud noises for El), and only as if he were happy for their presence. 

As for Will… Hopper wasn’t surprised to find that he and El made for fast friends. Much like Jonathan, Will was gentle, and non judgemental, and he and El seemed to know about each other without actually talking very much. 

Then things began to appear around the cabin.

It started with the drawings, which Hopper dismissed as typical kid stuff - large pieces of construction paper that El showed off proudly. Hopper, remembering the stick figure drawing in the bedroom of Hawkins lab, made a point of buying a set of cheap magnets at Melvalds so he could pin them to the refrigerator.

Then he noticed the pages pinned to El's corkboard, and the talent reflected in them (he also remembered Joyce madly shaking papers in his face, _It wasn't Will!)_ and realized that El was keeping her favorite drawings from Will too. Some were sketches - of their friends, of the view outside the front window, one of him, even - but others were nothing more than streaks of finger paint, all with the initials WB smeared into the bottom corner.

It wasn't until Will appeared with a full canvas painting of bright, cheerful sunflowers - a project for art class, he explained - and El insisted on hanging it up over the television that he actually questioned her.

"Why?" he asked her, even as he was tucking nails into his breast pocket. "We could hang it in your room, so you could see it all the time."

The look El gave him was honest and sincere. "So we can both look at it,” she answered easily, as if it was obvious. "I have lots of pictures in my bedroom. Will made this for us."

He hadn't realized it until then, but there wasn't anything to look at on the walls of the cabin except the windows. The addition of Will's painting looked almost anachronistic; such a bright, colorful splash in the middle of dingy wood.

By now, winter was slowly giving way to spring, and her curls nearly reached her shoulders. Sometimes she would brush them out and her hair would frizz into soft waves, and she'd huff impatiently and pull it up into a scrunchie. Hopper had no idea where she was getting the things - if they were from Nancy or Joyce or what - but they'd taken over the house, constant flashes of neon colors on her wrists, spilling from her coat pockets, hiding under towels in the bathroom and in the couch cushions.

It was around this time that the Deborah Harry poster appeared in El’s bedroom, and El started to express strong opinions regarding Hopper’s record collection: that it was outdated, kind of boring - _Dad music_ , she told him, her nose wrinkling.

While investigating the poster - nothing racy, just the singer dressed in white, wearing pearls, with _Blondie_ scrawled across the right margin - he also noticed the portable cassette recorder, and small stack of tapes piled on the vanity.

There was no one else that could have come from but Jonathan.

Hopper hemmed and hawed for several days before pulling Jonathan aside one evening; Will and El were wrapped up in their crayons and a rerun of M*A*S*H on the television.

"You don't have to buy stuff for her, you know." Hopper had debated how to open this conversation, not wanting to insult Jonathan for his generosity, but he knew the Byers’ financial situation. "She's just happy for the company. There's more important things for you to be spending money on."

Jonathan frowned at him. "Are you talking about the tape deck? It was an old one that was broken. Will and Dustin fixed it up somehow."

"Still." Hopper's mouth twisted, but he was relieved to hear that the Byers hadn’t paid for the tape deck. They were standing in the kitchen, and Hopper was rinsing dishes while Jonathan dried them. "I don't want to spoil her, or make her think people are always going to bring her presents."

When he looked up, Jonathan was staring at him as if he'd grown a second head. "Chief, we're not spoiling her. We're trying to bring her up to speed."

"What does that mean?"

Jonathan ducked his head close, making sure that Will and El weren't eavesdropping. "She's talking about going to school next year. About going out like a normal kid, and doing homework, and going to the arcade and - and all she knows about is soap operas and Jim Croce records!"

His jaw set, Jonathan continued, "Are you really going to send her to school next year? Because I know what it's like to be that kid that sticks out like a sore thumb. She needs more than math workbooks and Nancy's English tutoring. She needs to know movies and music and video games, or else the other kids will tear her apart."

Jonathan's eyes were blazing, and Hopper was struck dumb by how much he resembled his mother in that instant, tiny Joy Carroll, yelling at drunk teenaged Hopper to _get in the car_ and _stop picking fights!_

More than that, he was realizing that Jonathan was right. "She doesn't -" Hopper stammered. "I mean, she's -"

"Look, I get it." Jonathan shrugged. "You've had bigger priorities than introducing her to Cyndi Lauper. You have to make sure she's safe and no one is following you and that she's caught up enough to even be enrolled in school. So you have to let us take care of everything else."

He wiped his hands off on a towel, and carefully hung it back to dry. "It's not spoiling her. It's treating her just like a normal kid. Which is what she both wants and deserves."

He’d spent over a year of sheltering El at this point. He'd hidden her, kept her safe, kept her stifled, watched as she grew restless and irritated. He'd been the one trying to manipulate the lab, trying to discourage Murray, trying to keep her fed and clothed and warm and secret.

The thought of relinquishing control over any part of El’s wellbeing was nerve-wracking, but he had to concede that if there was anyone he could trust it was the Byers, who were kind hearted down to the bone and would lay the world at El's feet for her part in bringing back Will and keeping him safe.

***

The prediction he’d made to Joyce back in November turned out to be correct: once Mike (and Nancy and Will and Jonathan) were allowed regular visits to the cabin, the rest of the Party quickly followed. At least, the boys did - Hopper hadn’t seen the red haired girl since the night of the Gate, and though he’d overheard the boys talking about her to El, she hadn’t yet made an appearance.

He tried in vain to set ground rules, dictating how often they could come out, in what number, the routes they took to reach the cabin, and how long they were allowed to stay - but it was for naught.

All boundaries were quickly trashed. 

He suspected that the kids were visiting when he wasn’t home - there were frequently fresh bike treads in the spring mud, extra garbage around the house, and missing food even though Hopper was running to the grocery store twice a week. 

Not to mention El was a terrible liar who stammered when he asked her, and she was distinctly happier the evenings he came home to those telltale signs.

Immediately, he pegged Wheeler as the instigator, until he came home from work early one evening to find Lucas Sinclair doing his homework with El following along raptly.

He liked all of El’s friends. Really, he did. He’d forever have a soft spot for Will, and while Mike was a melodramatic teenager, Hopper could concede that he made El happy and only ever had her best interests at heart. Dustin was a cheerful presence in the house but Lucas - Lucas was a level headed kid who was thoughtful in ways that the others weren’t. 

Lucas was good at explaining things to El, honest to a fault even if she didn’t like the answers, and he was good at talking sense into Mike when Dustin wasn’t there to handle whatever emotional outburst Wheeler was currently inflicting on the group. Even with a competitive streak a mile wide - Hopper once witnessed Mike and Lucas get into a shouting match over _Yahtzee!_ that culminated in the game box being tossed across the room - Hopper generally thought that Lucas was one of the more mature teenagers he knew. 

So Hopper had to admit, he was a little disappointed to discover that it was Lucas he was busting at the cabin on an unapproved day.

“What did we talk about El?” Hopper asked, hanging up his jacket and tossing his keys on the cabin.

“Not ‘til Saturday,” El said promptly, “But -”

“She’s helping me with my science project!” Lucas interjected.

“I’m helping Lucas with his science project,” El repeated.

"Oh yeah?" Hopper leaned against the back of the couch, and fished a cigarette from his breast pocket. "You know, I gotta be honest. I was expecting Wheeler to be the one breaking my rules, not you Lucas.

"Mike would never risk you kicking him out," Lucas said, shrugging. Despite the scolding tone in Hopper's voice, Lucas didn't sound the least bit apologetic, and Hopper made a mental note to add Tums to his biweekly shopping list. He was going to need them if these were going to be El's friends. "But this is due Friday so I couldn’t wait until the weekend.”

“What do I say about the rules El?” Hopper asked, reaching for the ashtray on the end table.

“We’re not stupid,” El said obediently. “But Lucas isn’t stupid. He’s building a flower box.”

"A flower box," Hopper repeated dumbly, and despite himself, he found his interest piqued.

“Since El isn’t really allowed out yet,” Lucas explained, holding up his notebook. “I’m building a self-watering flower box for her bedroom window. I brought a seed catalogue so El can pick out flowers. It’s a biology project, so we’re picking out perennials that will do good in low sunlight and I have a whole presentation planned about their life cycle.”

“So I don’t have to just look at the woods or the tv all day,” El recited, and Hopper resisted the urge to rub at his temples. For all he was afraid of letting El out into the world, it would have been a relief to not have to host the party constantly, especially since they kept making comments like that. Some people paid good money for a view of the woods out their window! It was the entire reason his grandfather had built the cabin in the first place!

_Kids_.

Hopper pointed his cigarette at Lucas. “You can stay for the rest of tonight. No more sneaking over here though. The rules aren’t just for El’s safety, they’re for you too, got that?”

Lucas looked away, and Hopper caught a whiff of embarrassment. He knew he was right, and Lucas knew it too. They had worried enough for the last two years. “Got it,” he mumbled. “Sorry.”

“Hop,” El interrupted the awkward silence that had fallen. “We can hang the flower box from the porch. Instead of my window. So you can see it too.”

Hopper blinked. “Why would we do that?”

“For home,” El said simply, as if that explained everything. 

Hopper opened his mouth. Closed it again. Understood, instinctively, as a man who had once been married, had parented a daughter, had lived with this teenaged girl for the last year, that again asking _Why?_ was the Wrong Response, and yet he had absolutely no idea why El could possibly think he cared if he saw a flower box on the porch as he walked through the woods each night.

Lucas, somehow, saved him. “You can’t El, not until Hopper fixes the porch.”

“Absolutely right,” Hopper nodded. “Can’t until I - what now?”

“Your porch,” Lucas informed him, and his expression made clear the fact that he was deeply unimpressed that Hopper seemed unaware of any issues with his porch. “The wood is rotted in the back corner. It’s not safe to walk on.”

Hopper stared at him, and mentally revised his timeline for letting El out of the house, Owens be damned. Then, channelling the memory of his cranky grandfather, he looked at El and said, “Kid? Don’t walk on the back corner of the porch.”

“Okay Hop,” El agreed easily, and the subject was dropped -

\- for a couple weekends, anyway, until spring had well and truly taken hold, and he could make quiet arrangements for El to spend the weekend with the Byers. The Party was thrilled to finally have a proper sleepover with her, judging from the plans he’d heard them making over the week, and Hopper was happy not to have them underfoot as he bullied Callahan and Powell into helping him rebuild the front porch.

It was a long weekend, between Powell’s complaining, and Callahan accidentally hammering his thumb, and calling in every last favor Pete owed him, but the look on El’s face when he brought her home Sunday night to a new porch, with fresh, bright wood, and a padded glider resting on an old carpet remnant was worth it.

***

Part way through the summer, food that Hopper had no memory of purchasing began to appear in the cabin.

They had made the decision to enroll El in school starting in September, and in preparation had started to let her accompany the party out - mostly to each other’s houses, but once to the arcade, although that hadn’t lasted long as El had hated the noise.

Nevertheless, the rumor had taken hold and spread quickly - everyone in Hawkins knew about Hopper’s newly found daughter. WIth her bright smile and long hair, she looked nothing like the traumatized kid in Brenner’s mugshot. 

He would have been insulted at how easily the story took root if it hadn’t served his purposes. No one in Hawkins seemed surprised at Hopper’s illegitimate daughter, and he was damned grateful for it.

They were still being careful - the majority of her few trips out had been to the Wheelers, if only so that once school started they could easily explain why Mike and Jane were already so close.

When the food started appearing, he was inclined to blame Karen Wheeler, whose generosity and hospitality was exceeded only by her never ending curiosity and nebbiness regarding El and her origins. She had already sent over several frozen casseroles to spare Hopper the chore of cooking, and El had developed an appreciation for her cooking despite several food aversions that even Hopper was still navigating.

He had a hard time believing, however, that Karen had sent the box of Ho-Hos, particularly when El informed him that there was a correct way to eat them, and that was frozen.

“Where’d you get these?” Hopper asked, peering into the icebox.

“Dustin. Brought them for the whole party,” El said, and there was a distinct tone of disapproval in her voice when she added, “He says you only keep brain food in there. Says we need _feel good_ food and _power up_ food.”

She paused, and while Hopper tried to figure out what, exactly, she was talking about - _Jesus Christ, teenagers_ \- El added, “And a refrigerator.”

Okay, so the icebox was a little old fashioned. It was the first criticism of the cabin that Hopper could concede had some merit.

“It was good enough for my grandfather,” Hopper said slowly, mind already scrambling to parse out where his next paychecks were going to go - they hadn’t even bought El clothes for school yet. “But we might need something new.”

He ended up driving to Indianapolis in order to take care of two birds with one stone - purchasing the needed refrigerator from Sears while Joyce helped El buy some clothing for school. (There were some parts of fatherhood that he needed to be reminded of - for example, just how stubborn children could be - but there were some lessons he'd never forget, and one of them was how very awful it was trying to shop for appliances with a kid in tow.)

The clerks were astonished at Hopper paying in cash and turning down their offer of free delivery, and he ended up needing some assistance from El's powers to get it through the woods but there was a certain amount of pride to be had when the two of them stood back and admired the new refrigerator, so blindingly white it was almost garish in the dingy cabin. 

It kept his beers cooler, anyway. 

For Hopper, buying the fridge brought forth some long forgotten feelings of - not competency, exactly, or productivity, but forward thinking. It was a feeling that had been missing from his life for a long time. 

Once upon a time, he and Diane had bought a home, and picked out appliances for it, and decorated it in ways that had made them happy. It had been a time when they’d talked about redoing the kitchen, or adding a deck to the house, and he had cared about that. He’d had opinions about that. When Diane had been pregnant with Sara, they’d argued so strenuously about what color to paint the nursery that she’d spent a long weekend sleeping on the couch. Whatever shame he’d felt at seeing his eight months pregnant wife sleeping on the lumpy sofa had been outweighed by his conviction - this was _important_ , this was their future child they were talking about.

(It wasn’t important, he knew that now.)

Diane had won that one, and the nursery had been painted a bright grass green, and he’d been forced to admit that Diane had been right, it was perfect for their cheerful little girl.

(He’d had no idea then what was really important.)

How far he’d come from that carefully curated home that he’d thought he and Diane were creating. It was a world of difference between that fresh modern home that they’d built and the tired cabin he and El were putting back together.

(He knew now.)

***

The month before school started, something shifted - or changed, or was confronted - and suddenly Max was invited to the cabin with the rest of the Party. 

At first, Hopper wasn’t sure what to make of the girl. He’d seen her that night at the Byers, but that hadn’t been enough to get the measure of her and he’d had bigger things to worry about anyway. His initial assessment that she was _way too cool_ for this group of AV Club nerds appeared to be accurate, even if she had been just as heated as the boys during The Monopoly Incident - and had ended up with a black eye to go along Dustin’s fat lip. (Between the broken lamp and the fact that El had cried for a solid hour afterwards, the game was now banned completely from the cabin.)

(He’d tried to show his seriousness by hanging the game board on the wall, where it had morphed into a dart board, but then they’d found a way to argue about that too, so now Monopoly wasn’t allowed in any shape or form in the cabin. They weren’t even allowed to mention it.)

(Darts were also soon forbidden, but that was because Mike was an awful shot and Hopper didn’t want to keep asking Joyce to mend the holes in their clothing.)

There was an undeniable edge to the girl, and it made him wonder whether or not she was a good influence for El - until he overheard El and Mike talking one afternoon. 

It was only the second week of school, and Hopper had returned to the cabin after work to find Mike and El in the middle of an intense discussion. They didn’t even bother to greet Hopper as he passed by, hanging up his hat and tossing his keys on the kitchen counter, and he, in turn, did not pay attention to what they were talking about until El mentioned Max.

“She shouldn’t boss you around,” Mike was saying, and Hopper could hear the unhappy tone to his voice. 

“She’s not,” El said, determined. “She is the one who told me to do what I wanted.”

Hopper was openly eavesdropping at this point, and could not have cared less if they suddenly noticed. He wanted to know what issue could have already come up, two weeks into the school year. _Teenagers_. He shouldn’t have been surprised.

Mike thought about that, and then asked, voice trembling, “Do you think _I’m_ bossing you around?”

“No,” El said immediately, confidently, and Hopper watched Mike’s shoulders relax. “I didn’t think about what I wanted.”

There was quiet, and then Mike asked, “So you don’t want to do AV Club with the Party?”

“Max isn’t going to either,” El answered. She reached for Mike’s hand, and he gave it gladly. “I won’t be lonely.”

Hopper’s ears strained to hear Mike’s next question, murmured down at their clasped hands, “Is it because you’re embarrassed?”

“Embarrassed why?” El asked, head tilted. Hopper was standing still, afraid to interrupt at this point. It seemed important.

“You know, AV club is kind of dorky, and you’re new, and you’re like… _really_ pretty, and everyone wants to be your friend.” Hopper’s eyebrows rose. He’d never witnessed anything but total confidence in the way Mike interacted with El, so to hear the self-deprecating tone was surprising. 

In hindsight, he shouldn’t have been surprised. God knew he’d beat up some nerds when he’d been in high school.

“I’m not embarrassed,” El said firmly. “I’m new. I don’t know what I want. But I don’t like the radio and electronics. If I break something I might get in trouble, and Hopper says I’m supposed to _keep my head down_.”

“I understand,” Mike said, and Hopper got the sense from his tone that he meant it, that he believed El and his feelings weren’t hurt. “It’s okay. Max is right. You should do what you want, not just follow the Party around.”

“You’re not mad?” El asked.

“No,” Mike assured her. “And I’m glad you talked to Max about it. She’s really glad you’re talking to her too.”

And that was when Hopper decided that Max could stick around. He had so many worries about El going to school - worries that ranged from the lab planting spies to El accidently using her powers to bullies singling her out for being the new kid. Chief among them had been the worry that El would follow Mike around like a puppy, agree with him automatically, and generally refuse to think for herself. It was a relief to hear her distance herself even in as small a way as not joining the AV Club.

So when El asked if Max could sleep over a few weeks into the school year, Hopper agreed. Sleepovers were a typical teenager thing, and Hopper had heard enough rumors about the Hargroves to have an idea of what Max’s homelife was like. Anything that got her out of there was a good idea.

They didn’t have much to offer, but it didn’t seem to matter to Max. The girls found some old movie by playing with the antenna, and Hopper picked up a pizza on his way home from work, and he thought it was downright pleasant to hear the two of them giggling from El’s bedroom.

Hopper was brushing his teeth when he found Max standing outside El's bedroom door, nose wrinkled in confusion.

He spat. "What'sa matter?"

Max frowned. "El said that the bathroom was right here but I don't see it."

"Oh." Hopper stepped aside and gestured. "Sorry, I was standing in the doorway."

She craned her head to look past him, eyebrows wrinkling. "That's your bathroom?"

“Yeah, so what?”

It wasn't much, and Hopper knew it. His grandfather had built the cabin, and had not been thinking in terms of comfort or luxury when he designed the bathroom. There wasn't enough room for a bathtub, but there was a shower (that was no more than a spigot over a drain), a toilet, and a sink with storage underneath (that pressed against Hopper's knees when he sat on the toilet). Hopper didn't care. It had hot, running water, and that was really all the two of them needed.

“It doesn’t have a door!” Max said incredulously, gesturing to the curtain that hung in front of the entrance.

Okay, so there was _that_. As far as Hopper knew, there had never been a real door in the entrance to the bathroom. The only people who’d ever come to the cabin had been him, his father, and his grandfather, and none of them had cared. He’d hung the curtain in the frenzy of cleaning the cabin when he’d first found El, and El had never complained, and so installing a door had fallen down his list of priorities.

“I mean,” Hopper faltered. “It’s on the list.”

Max glared at him, and Hopper found himself wondering, yet again, how a fourteen year old managed to cow him so effectively. She crossed her arms. “Did El tell you that I had to teach her to lock the stalls in the bathroom on the first day of school?”

Hopper winced. El hadn’t mentioned that. 

“I mean, I noticed that sometimes she didn’t shut the door all the way if we were at Mike’s or something but… come on!” Max’s jaw was set, pulled forward, and Hopper thought she resembled an angry bulldog.

Guilt was creeping up Hopper’s throat. All the worries about El fitting in, and there were so many little things that he had never thought about. “I’ll get a bathroom door.”

“Like, tomorrow,” Max insisted.

“I said I’ll get it,” Hopper snapped. _Jesus_. At this point he was going to owe Pete the favor.

“Good.” Max stepped into the bathroom, and then glared at him over her shoulder. “Can you like… go to the other side of the room or something?”

Hopper rolled his eyes and reached into his pocket, retrieving a pack of cigarettes. Tapping the package against his palm, he tilted his head towards the door. “I’ll be out on the front porch.”

He gave Max her privacy, and sat out on the porch and worried for a long time. The girls fell asleep, and the cabin was quiet, and there was nothing but the glow of his cigarettes and the ambient noise of the forest to keep him company.

What else had he missed? He’d coached El on her backstory, how to answer questions about where she’d come from, the gaps in her knowledge, the signs to watch for that meant someone was untrustworthy. She knew how to get ahold of him in emergencies, she knew her friends would support and protect her as much as possible, and she knew that they would answer her questions honestly. 

But what if she never thought to ask? How could he prepare her if she didn’t know to ask?

There was nothing to be done for it. They would do the best they could, and tomorrow he would buy El a bathroom door.

***

Hopper and Joyce were sitting on the front porch of the Byers’ house, passing a single cigarette back and forth between them, when Nancy pulled up in the Wheeler's station wagon with Will, El, and Mike.

They were sharing the cigarette because Will had been diagnosed with asthma in the spring, and Hopper was trying to save money, and so both Hopper and Joyce were trying to cut back how much they were smoking.

Joyce stubbed out what remained the moment Will stepped out of the car. He'd discarded his Spiderman mask, but was still wearing the blue sweatpants and red Henley that Joyce had decorated with black, criss-crossing lines, complete with the painted spider in the center of his chest.

Despite the cold, his face was flushed, and he looked proud as he held up a bulging pillowcase.

"Awesome!" Joyce clapped, and tilted her head to look behind him. "El? How about you Sweetheart?"

El smiled and held up a pumpkin bucket, while Mike held up a canvas sack. "We hit up all the good blocks! The pumpkin was filled before the end of Walnut Street!"

The hands that weren't holding candy were clasped, and Hopper couldn't help but notice that there was a black smudge on Mike's cheek that matched the black grease paint on El's nose.

He reached out and put a hand on her head. "Glad you had fun. Where's your ears?" There had been a cat's ear headband to match her black leggings, and Joyce had stuffed one leg from a pair of black stockings and sewed it to the back of her sweatshirt, creating a makeshift tail. Hopper thought she'd looked cute as a button when she'd left that evening, practically glowing with excitement.

He hadn't forgotten that just a year ago, they had fought over trick or treating, seeing her friends, how long she would stay hidden and subject to only him for company.

El grimaced and pointed to the rucksack. "Hurts my head."

"She wore them while we were trick or treating," Mike jumped in immediately, but Hopper waved him off. As long as El was having fun, he didn't care if she'd kept the whole costume on or not.

"It's a school night tonight, honey. Why don't you go get washed up for bed?" Joyce ushered Will into the house, leaving Hopper alone with Nancy and the teenagers.

"All right El, say you're goodbyes," he instructed, taking the sack of candy from Mike and turning towards the Blazer.

Mike groaned, and El started to say, “Can’t we -”

Nancy cut them off. “Come on Mike, I told you we weren’t staying. The only reason Mom even let you ride along is because I said we were coming right back.”

“You’re only saying that because Jonathan is working tonight,” Mike complained, but all the same he walked El to the truck and held the pumpkin bucket while she climbed in, then leaned up to kiss her goodnight while Hopper was rounding to the driver’s side. El wasn’t shy; she didn’t care who saw them kissing, but if it was Hopper Mike at least tried to wait until his back was turned for propriety’s sake. 

El was surprisingly chatty on the way home - a rarity, but tonight she was full to bursting to tell him about walking around, collecting candy, all the different costumes she had seen and how all the houses were decorated. It was refreshing to hear her talk so happily, for her to find novelty in something as simple as trick or treating.

He parked the truck, and she pranced ahead of him, bag of candy swinging. Hopper followed, pleased at how the night had gone, still thinking of how badly he had screwed up the year before, how angry El had been with him, and how far away that troubled kid and time of strife now seemed. 

She got into the house ahead of him, and he paused on the bottom step as lights popped on, illuminating the cabin behind the dark curtains that had hid El away from the world. The steps were covered in dried, dead leaves, but El had swept the porch and so the carpet was clean, and the new wood was gleaming in the faded light cast from the windows.

There were more plans in place, as he saved his money - plans to fix up the bathroom a bit, put in a real shower stall, and build a loft, so he could get a real bed. His back couldn’t take the cot for much longer, but the loft was near the bottom of his to-do list. The things that would take care of El were more important, and he had promised to take care of her.

The door swung open, and El stepped out onto the porch. She was holding her pumpkin bucket, filled with candy. “Are you coming in? You’re going to miss it.”

Hopper’s eyebrows drew together. “Miss what?”

“The movie,” El said simply, and when Hopper just stared at her, El shook the candy bucket at him. “You know. Watch scary movies. Eat a bunch of candy. Get fat.”

A laugh bubbled up from his chest, light and relieved and proud. Hopper stepped into their home and fulfilled a year old promise.


End file.
